


Lay Me Down

by Inell



Series: Teeny Fic Challenge [31]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9961958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: During the day, there’s always work and life and pack filing the hours. At night is when they relax and just enjoy spending time together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Stiles/Boyddd
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, Nonnie! Teeny Fic #31
> 
> But oh how it feels so real  
> Lying here with no one near  
> Only you and you can hear me  
> When I say softly slowly
> 
> Tiny Dancer by Elton John

****It’s been another hectic day, and it’s only Wednesday. As the FBI liaison for Beacon Hills, Stiles spends most of his time working cold cases, solving those caused by supernatural influence. This week, however, he’s been in the field with a couple of agents that came up from the Resident Agency down in Redding. They’re tracking a child porn suspect, and they’ve narrowed it down to the area around Beacon Hills and over to Eureka. Cases about children are always kind of difficult, but especially when it involves something like porn.

On top of the current case, he’s been dealing with the stress of being Erica’s best man, which mostly consists of talking her out of superhero themed wedding ideas because Cora will rip his throat out if he doesn’t keep Erica under control. He’s just glad Erica got to him first because Cora had totally planned to ask him, too, even if she claims Derek was always her first choice. He loves Derek, but there’s no way he’s first choice to be _anyone’s_ best man.

There’s also some kind of creature lurking in the preserve that the pack’s trying to identify. No deaths, yet, but they’ve learned to be proactive when they detect an unknown supernatural presence in their town. It’s why things have remained relatively quiet since high school. It probably helps a lot that the pack has grown exponentially, that they have not one but two alphas, and that there’s a collection of other supernatural creatures who are part of the pack.

Fucking with them is just suicidal.

It’s after ten by the time he stumbles home. Boyd beat him back, which means the run through the preserve hadn’t taken as long as Stiles’ research session with Lydia and Peter. When he opens the door, he smells something delicious, and he drops his stuff right on the floor as he makes his way to the kitchen. Boyd’s stirring something on the stove, and Stiles whimpers. “I love you.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m feeding you,” Boyd says, not stopping his stirring even as he flashes a smile over his broad shoulder.

“Well, yeah, but that’s just one of the reasons, though.” Stiles walks up behind him, hugging him and resting his cheek on Boyd’s shoulderblade. Boyd’s nearly a half foot taller than him, so it’s the perfect height for Stiles to snuggle his back. “How was patrol?”

“Malia ran off after a rabbit, and I almost punched Jackson because he kept bitching about getting mud on his fancy shoes.” Boyd huffs. “And that was _after_ I had to deal with two cases of flu showing up in class today. Two, Stiles. Nine year olds don’t do well when they’re sick.”

“Poor baby,” Stiles murmurs, kissing the back of Boyd’s neck before letting go. “Was there snot? I don’t know how you can work somewhere with snotty kids.”

“Says the guy who works with dead bodies and bloody crime scenes.” Boyd takes the spoon out of the pot and sets it on the counter before turning around in Stiles’ arms. “Dinner’s ready. It’s just leftovers. I reheated the soup Kira dropped off last night.”

“That was delicious soup,” Stiles says, his stomach growling as he thinks about it. Leaning up, he kisses Boyd. “Thanks for taking such good care of my belly, babe.”

“I have to take care of it,” Boyd tells him, patting his hand over the soft swell that’s formed as they’ve gotten older. Stiles frowns down at it, poking it once or twice before Boyd grabs his hand. “Stop that, Stiles. No frowning at my favorite pillow.”

“We’re getting so old,” Stiles whines, looking up at Boyd. “Well, _I_ am. You’re still built like a damn mountain that I can’t wait to climb.”

“We’re only thirty-four, Stiles. You’ve gone a bit soft because you’re happy and no longer spend hours running on no sleep and being chased by bad guys. I like you happy,” Boyd says, kissing him before he can pout about his no longer flat belly again.

It’s been a standard subject of whining since he noticed it last month, but he doesn’t care enough to start working out or cut out chocolate, so it is what it is. At least Boyd really does seem to like it. The kiss goes from comforting and playful to filthy and suggestive in a matter of seconds. Well, seconds plus a good ass squeeze from Stiles. His stomach growls again, and he pulls away from the kiss with a groan. “Need to eat then we can continue this.”

“Get the bowls and I’ll get us drinks. What do you want?” Boyd asks, kissing Stiles’ nose before moving to the fridge.

“Water’s fine. Oh, wait, do I still have some of that Kool-Aid left?” Stiles grins. “I don’t think the demon brats drank it all, so I’m totally down for a glass.”

“Those demon brats are your godchildren, and, no, they didn’t finish the entire pitcher.” Boyd gets it out and then grabs two glasses from the cabinet. His shirt rides up as he reaches, flashing a glimpse of bare skin that has Stiles reaching out to touch. Boyd rolls his eyes but leans in for a quick kiss instead of scolding him, so he counts it as a win.

Dinner goes fast. They eat the soup and chat a little about their days. Work just stresses them out, so they don’t dwell on it very long before changing the subject to Cora’s latest gripe about wedding cakes and Erica’s waffling between red or black for her wedding dress. Stiles manages to make Boyd laugh the snorting laugh that almost makes him choke on his soup when he does a spot-on imitation of Cora taste testing the cake samples.

They don’t bother doing dishes. They just put the bowls and pan in the sink, run some water into them, and then head to their bedroom, turning off the lights along the way. Stiles hops in the shower while Boyd pisses and brushes his teeth, then they switch places. Stiles has to shave because he’s skipped it for two days and his chin is starting to sprout pubes. He doesn’t get amazing facial hair like Derek or sexy stubble like Boyd. No, he gets chin pubes that make him look ridiculous.

“You missed a spot,” Boyd says, toweling off his body when he steps out of the shower. He wraps the damp towel around his waist and knots it before he takes the razor from Stiles. “Chin up.” Stiles obeys, feeling the scrape of the razor catch an area he couldn’t reach very well. “There.”

“Thanks.” He takes the razor back and finishes up, rinsing it out as he looks in the mirror, unashamedly watching Boyd dry off. When Boyd leans over, Stiles lets out a wolf whistle, which gets a booty shake in response. “Shake it, baby, shake it.”

“You’re an idiot.” Boyd’s tone is affectionate, and he’s smiling when he straightens up. “Really, Stiles? Don’t leave the toothpaste like that. It gets gummed up and gross.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Fussy Butt.” Stiles rolls his eyes but dutifully wipes the end of the tube before fastening it. “Anyway, you squeezed from the middle, and you know how much I hate that. It wastes toothpaste.”

“I’ll buy a new tube so you have one in reserve,” Boyd teases, making Stiles throw a cotton ball at him. He catches it easily and then tosses it back at Stiles. They end up throwing cotton balls at each other until half the bag is on the floor around them, and they’re laughing like dorks instead of grown men with actual careers.

“You made a mess,” Stiles points out, kicking at the cotton balls. “Why do we even _have_ this many cotton balls? Oh, wait. I remember. Because _someone_ has a fancy skin care routine. I’m sure Jackson is so proud that he’s converted you to that, babe.”

“Jackson will never know if you don’t want to end up in divorce court,” Boyd mutters, reaching out and grabbing Stiles. He picks him up, tossing him over his shoulder and swatting his ass when he wiggles. “If you make yourself fall, I won’t catch you.”

“Lies.” Stiles reaches down and swats Boyd’s bare ass because it’s right there tempting him. When he’s tossed on the mattress, he lands with a laugh, scooting back and posing in a seductive way. “C’mon up and see me sometime, big boy.”

“Such a dork,” Boyd says, crawling onto the bed and pinning Stiles to it. He kisses him slowly, taking his time, touching and stroking bare skin as they lose themselves in each other.


End file.
